The Steel Man
by InvisibleBlade
Summary: Mycroft Holmes started life as all robots did; in a factory as shining metal parts, cogs, and unconnected wires. But as the years pass he finds himself becoming more and more human. He learns what it feels like to be in love, and he witnesses death and sorrow. Mystrade pairing fic.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLIAMER: I do not own anything. **

**A/N: This fan fiction is based a lot on the film "Bicentennial man." The concept is basically where a robot slowly becomes more and more human over a long period of time. It's about the robot discovering what it means to be human, what it's like to fall in love and feel emotions that only humans are capable of. It's a very moving movie and I highly recommend it, though you do not need to watch it to understand this fan fiction. Obviously there will be some slight moderations to the story to fit the characters of Sherlock in, and in this case Mycroft is the robot. **

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Mycroft Holmes started life as all robots did; in a factory as shining metal parts, cogs, and unconnected wires. The design of robots had really improved in the past few years as it became more and more common for human families to each have their own robot. It was a sign of power and money. The more things your robot could do the higher ranking you were in society. Mycroft can remember being created. He can still hear the grind and whir of machines working at a million miles per second just to create more and better robots. The sensation of being surrounded by dirt and oil is still painfully vivid even after all these years, and he can recall the exact moment a sharp shock of electricity was fired through his metal body to boot him up, having the same effect as starting a human heart after it had stopped. Except at the time Mycroft Holmes hadn't owned a heart. He'd been a lifeless and cold as the machines that had helped create him. He'd been fitted with a basic personality and was quite possibly one of the most cutting edge robots made up till that point. Of course, these days, there was a lot of speculation about whether he was a robot at all. It's a very long story my dear readers, so I hope you're holding on tight.

It all started in a house with a normal albeit quite rich family. Mycroft arrived in a long, almost coffin like, box. It would be safe to say that at the time Mycroft had felt dead. But then robots didn't feel such things as death and so he paid it very little attention. When the box was opened, Mycroft was in effect in an induced coma. That all changed when the head of the family pressed the activate button on the small remote that accompanied him. He awoke slowly, the cogs gently starting to whir within his metal skull once more, his wires sparking into life. His vision was hazy at first. He could only make three blurred figures; a man, a woman, and a small boy. Given a few seconds and he was able to make them out clearly, his pixelated vision becoming clearer by the second . The man was obviously the head of the house. He seemed fascinated by Mycroft, a truly enthusiastic grin tugging at his features. The woman seemed perhaps a little baffled. Her eyebrows were raised slightly and going by the slight fear in her eyes she didn't know what to expect. Humans, as Mycroft had learned through his existence, were often terrified of what they couldn't understand. Then there was the boy. The young human couldn't have been more than five or six and his face was caught in a mixture of curiosity and awe. He'd clearly never seen an android before, or at least if he had he hadn't seen one quite as grand as Mycroft was.

Mycroft's head turned slowly and robotically as he announced the title that had been assigned to him by his creators. "North and robotics- household model- Mycroft Holmes –NDO14. Serial number 98625."

"Hello." That had been the first word Mycroft had said by himself. It was a customary human greeting. It only seemed right at the time. He'd then inquired rather politely, because Mycroft had been programmed to be rather delicate in his words and was therefore well-mannered, if the three humans were his family.

"I guess so." The head of the family said, his enthusiastic grin not waning for a second.

Mycroft moved from his box, his legs and arms moving mechanically, soft whirring sounds coming from deep within him. Moving for the first time felt peculiar but it was nice and far more freeing than being enclosed in small, dark space. He heard the little boy mutter that he found Mycroft scary. Had he had the ability at the time Mycroft would have smiled fondly at the young human, instead he just cocked his head slightly.

"Welcome, Mycroft." The man moved forwards slightly and Mycroft regarded him through his unemotional eyes.

"It is a pleasure to be with you, Sir." Mycroft nodded curtly. "Would you care to hear the three laws of robotics? It is said to be the most entertaining presentation."

"Okay, sure." His master nodded and took a cautionary step back.

Mycroft stood stock still, his metal limbs and body freezing and then the show began. A loud bout of supposedly entertaining music arose from Mycroft's skull and a projection floated into the air showing the three laws of robotics that all robots had to abide to.

_First law of robotics: Every robot may not injure a human being or through inaction cause a human being to come to harm._

_Second law of robotics: A robot must obey all human orders except when those orders come in conflict with the first law. _

_Third law of robotics: A robot must protect itself so long as doing so does not conflict with the first two laws._

When the presentation was over however Mycroft quickly found out that the human hadn't found it entertaining at all. The boy was huddling close to his mother and the man looked down right shocked and appalled.

"Mycroft, never do that again." The head of the house said sternly.

"Of course not, Sir. It is a onetime only." Mycroft had reassured his humans.

That night Mycroft was taken into the basement of the family's house to rest. It was dark down there but it was dry and a perfect place for a robot to stay when it wasn't being used by its family. It held no purpose at night when the humans were asleep and therefore was expected to stay put until its human awoke. Mycroft didn't mind all that much. He was told goodnight by the human male and Mycroft nodded.

"It certainly is a good night, Sir."

His master laughed softly. At the time Mycroft hadn't seen what was so funny and had been quite puzzled.

"No, Mycroft. The correct response to goodnight is goodnight."

Mycroft shifted slightly. "Goodnight."

"Yes." The human male nodded and Mycroft felt a whir of what was supposedly confusion. He was still a new robot and the sensation didn't quite register with his circuits. "You just said yes, sir."

"Yes. So?"

"The correct response to goodnight is goodnight."

This seemed to amuse the human even more. With a shake of his head the human said one last goodnight and left.

"Goodnight, sir?" Mycroft's circuits had been more than fried then. The correct response tonight was goodnight but in which case that would cause a never ending verbal loop. Surely that couldn't be the case. It was in that moment that Mycroft decided that there was a lot to learn about the endearing creatures that he worked for. Human beings were complicated things. He plugged himself in to charge and fell into not sleep, for robots did not sleep, but a dormant state. He stayed like that for the rest of the night.

Mycroft was soon set to work when morning came. He cooked and cleaned, and followed his humans orders to the letter just as every robot should. Everyday life was a learning process. Mycroft soon found himself asking questions about the world around him. He always looked up to the head of the house for answers; some of which appalled him completely. For example the reproduction process of humans. It had sounded messy and unsanitary.

But then Mycroft had discovered laughter. The sound had taken him rather aback at first. The light, bubbly sounds coming from the humans lips were strange. It was something new. One night he was sat in his master's office and he asked about laughter and what caused it. His master had grinned at him and had told him some supposedly funny jokes. Mycroft saved them to his memory banks and tried them out on the young human and his mistress the next day at dinner. He'd spat them out perhaps a little too fast and he was soon told that he should watch the appropriateness of his timing and his jokes. The small boy smiled and giggled for a good ten minutes though, and that was all that mattered. Mycroft had been successful in making a human laugh.

"You're funny." The small boy grinned up at him with a big, toothy smile.

"Why thank you, little Sir." Mycroft nodded curtly and retreated into the kitchen to wash the dirty dishes.

Over time he and his young master became close. Mycroft would often be requested to keep an eye on him. It was one day at the beach that would change his life forever. Little sir was playing on the beach. He'd built a huge sand fortress and was marching small glass soldiers around, barking out fake orders, a small frown of concentration embedded in his features.

"Would you like to hold him? He's my favorite."

Mycroft looked down. In the hand of the young human there was one of his soldiers. This particular soldier was saluting and it almost looked like he was directly saluting him. Mycroft leaned down and held out a hand and his young master placed the toy soldier on his metal palm. Unfortunately for Mycroft his hands were not made to handle such small and delicate things. The soldier slipped from his grip and fell to the ground, shattering into a million pieces on impact. The boy's face dropped in shock then it screwed up in anger. His cheeks went bright red and he let out a war cry, tears streaming down his face. "I hate you! They don't even make that edition anymore!"

Mycroft denied the way he felt a sharp twinge inside of his circuits at the boys words. It was not important. All that was important was for little Sir to be happy once more. Mycroft came to only one conclusion. He would make a new soldier to replace the one which had broken. He eyed a pile of drift wood on the beach's shore and his metallic mind conceived a plan. He gathered several large pieces of the driftwood and made his way home, the young boy following him reluctantly, glaring at Mycroft all the while.

Mycroft worked all night in order to make the soldier from the resources he'd collected. The head of the family was a clock-maker so he had all the tools he needed to make it. He studied books on how to create things from wood and took in all the information. He then proceeded to make a new soldier. This was one was a lot bigger than the one which had broken but it was still stood ramrod, saluting, and was perhaps even more detailed than the original. Mycroft was very pleased with his work indeed.

He crept into little Sir's bedroom and placed the wooden soldier on his pillow before retreating to the basement. In the morning he heard a small shriek of delight. The young master had found the soldier. The tiny thundering of small feet racing down the stairs could be heard, and before Mycroft knew it he was being hugged by the tiny human.

"This has to be the best present I've ever gotten!" The boy squealed and clung to Mycroft tightly, the wooden soldier clutched in one of his small hands.

"You are very welcome, little sir."

Mycroft felt his circuits spark with something close to the thing humans called joy. His metal exterior felt a little warmer as though to compensate for not actually being able to feel the human emotion. He watched proudly as little Sir ran off laughing, as he played with the crafted item Mycroft had made for him.

That evening Mycroft heard the most beautiful sound his cybernetic ears had ever come across. It was tranquil and beautiful, and soft. When he went to investigate what the sound was he saw little Sir sitting behind a large musical instrument. A quick search through his memory bank or as he liked to call it his 'mind fortress' told him that the instrument was called a piano. Fascinated, he listened closer. He studied the way the young humans fingers moved swiftly along the keys, creating a simple yet completely beautiful melody.

"Wanna do a duet together?"

Mycroft tilted his head and blinked. "I do not understand. A duet?"

Little Sir shuffled up on his piano stool and patted the space beside him. "Sit. I'll teach you."

"Certainly." Mycroft nodded and followed the order, sitting down beside the young boy.

Mycroft soon picked up the basics and he and little sir began to play in sync. Mycroft decided that the music was doubly magical when played by two people. The melody seemed softer and more charming this way. He wished sincerely that he could smile, laugh, and show the small human that he was enjoying himself, but that was impossible. His face remained cold and stoic, his features locked in a permanent blank expression that held no emotion whatsoever. It was quite frustrating to not be able to communicate with humans through expression. Mycroft decided that he wanted things to change.

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**Please leave a review to let me know what you think. Thank you. **


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Sherlock, unfortunately.**

**A/N: Wow! Thanks to all those lovely people who left reviews, added this story to their favorites, and followed this story. Here's the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy. **

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It became evident as time passed that Mycroft was not a normal robot. He was one of a kind and no one knew why. His manufactures had threatened to dismantle him and replace him with another robot. The head of the house had simply refused to let Mycroft go.

"You're one of a kind, Mycroft. In this society it's not very often that uniqueness is celebrated. I decided to keep you on one condition."

Mycroft looked at his Master curiously. His Master seemed completely serious, his lips pursed in a thin line. He nodded curtly. "And what is that, Sir?"

"I want you to promise me that you will reach your full potential. Whatever that is, reach for it and never give up. Promise me that."

"Is that an order?" Mycroft asked. He was entirely puzzled. Full potential? The thought of being anything other than a robot seemed absurd. He was already working at full capacity and was one of the latest robot designs. He was already at his full potential, surely.

"No. It is a request." His Master said softly. "Human beings – we take a long time to for fill our potential. Some of us never do. We run out of time to do it in. But that won't be a problem for you. You're a robot. You're immortal. You have all the time in the world."

"I do not understand. How can I have all the time in the world?" Again he found himself confused by the humans. "That is impossible, isn't it?"

"No." His master chuckled. "It's a human expression."

Mycroft shook his head. "Humans are forever confusing me. You sometimes say things that you do not mean. What is the point?"

"That's the human race for you. You should probably learn to not take everything quite so literally."

"It would seem I have a lot to learn about the human race."

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After that conversation with his Master, Mycroft threw himself into learning everything about human beings. Some things he found were quite horrific such as the many wars humans had had over petty things. Mycroft did not understand the violence. He'd always thought humans were peaceful creatures. It would seem that the Human race were a far more savage species that Mycroft had first thought. He also learnt about magnificent and fascinating things such as hope, joy, salvation, and love. He found the latter especially interesting. Love was made to seem like an effortless thing, something that came easy, a fairy tale thing that every person seeks from a very young age. Every time he read about the topic he felt a pang deep within his metal circuits, an ache in his torso that he couldn't quite explain. He tried to pinpoint what that sensation was but he found himself unable to. It was a rather unsettling matter for Mycroft and several years later as he sat beside little Sir, playing a duet together, he still hadn't found his answers.

As the melody came to slow and delicate stop Mycroft turned to little sir. The young human was no longer a boy. He was now a fully grown man. Soft brown eyes rose to meet his cold, metallic ones. "I have a feeling something's bothering you, Mycroft."

"It is nothing, little Sir." Mycroft turned his eyes back to the piano.

"It's clearly not nothing." Little sir may have grown up but the small scowl now written in his features reminded Mycroft so much of the little boy he had first encountered so many years ago.

"It is just that I have noticed that you are planning to marry that dreadful woman you've been dating for approximately three years now. Is it because you are in love with her? And in which case why are you in love? What is it like to be in love? I have always wondered." Mycroft's questions seemed to baffle little sir and it took him a while to respond, his lips kept on moving to speak but no sound came out. In the end it would seem the man simply gave up and a heavy silence fell between robot and human. It was little Sir who spoke up, his tone of voice defensive, and his words sounding strained.

"What's with all the questions, Mycroft? You're not usually so curious about my love life. Besides! She's not awful! She's wonderful and she-"

"Has cheated on you on numerous occasions." Mycroft interrupted, tilting his head to study little sir closely. "I do not think that is part of the package of love."

"Shut up, Mycroft! You're just a robot! You don't know anything!" Little Sir seemed quite upset now. Mycroft watched as the young human began tugging at his dark brown hair. It must have been causing him considerable pain as he kept on hissing. Humans were strange creatures.

"Little Sir, I may know nothing of love. But I do know that you are not happy with that woman. I have deduced that your heart lies with someone else." Little Sir instantly looked crestfallen. His eyes held such a mixture of complicated emotions that Mycroft found it quite difficult to depict what he was feeling. He was licking his lips nervously, Mycroft noted. Mycroft reached forwards and placed his cool hand on little sir's face. He did not miss the way his breath seemed to hitch, and the pulse in Little Sir's long and slender neck began to visibly throb. "I am sorry for intruding. I am only looking out for you, Little Sir. It is my job to look out for your best interests after all. Was I wrong in my analysis? Are you in love with someone else?"

Those soft brown eyes were fixed on Mycroft once more. Little Sir seemed incredibly sad. Mycroft hated it when he was sad. It made him feel as though he'd failed him in some way. It was in these moments that he longed to be human, because then he would have a better insight of what other humans were feeling, and how to make them feel better. But Mycroft was far from human. He was a machine. There were those people in society who saw robots as fancy household appliances. He was lucky in the fact that he had landed himself with a family who treated him as a person. Mycroft knew however that it did not matter how much he was treated like one of them he would never be human enough. He didn't have what it had to be human. His metal exterior did not matter, as humans came in all sorts of shapes as sizes from what Mycroft can gather, it was rather what was inside that mattered; the heart, soul, and the whole mess of feelings and emotions that gathered within.

"You're right."

Mycroft blinked and shook his head. He'd been daydreaming or at least the equivalent of daydreaming. Robots didn't dream, and the fact that he experienced anything close to the state of dreaming was yet another reason that he stood out from the other robots that had been manufactured. It was one of the traits that his Master and little Sir liked about him, but it was also the very trait that had him ridiculed by the public, including the Master's wife. Because of the second law of robotics Mycroft had to follow all orders humans gave him, and unfortunately because he was such a hated object and a subject of great debate this had led to quite a few accidents. He'd always been able to repair himself but it was still a nuisance and Mycroft did not see why people reacted in such a horrible way. One thing was clear; the human race did not like new things. Mycroft blinked again. He'd almost drifted back to daydreaming.

"Right? What am I right about, little Sir?" He asked.

Mycroft snapped out of his mind fortress completely when he heard the long and weary sigh from the young human. "I am completely in love with someone else. They make me laugh, they've always been there for me, they make my heart beat a little faster whenever I'm around them, and I'm always happy when I'm around them. But – I can't be with them. It's impossible."

"Nothing is impossible, little Sir. The human race dreamed of flying and then planes were invented. I think that it's safe to say that in comparison your situation is not as impossible sounding. It is very simple as to what you need to do. The answer is right in front of you." There it was again; a flicker of emotion burning like fire in little Sir's eyes. Mycroft pushed back the whir of frustration of not being able to help or understand what was going on. Mycroft didn't expect Little Sir to place one of his hands over his. He let out a small. "Oh." He found the whir of frustration forcing its way back up to his surface once more. He could not feel little Sir's touch. He was a robot. He could not feel anything. And yet he longed to be able to feel that touch and he did not know why.

"Do you see now, Mycroft?" Little Sir whispered softly, his thumb running over Mycroft's hand. "I can't follow my heart when it comes to this."

"I do not understand." Mycroft replied, truly confused.

"I think you do. I think you understand perfectly. I just think that love is such a foreign concept to you that you are denying the only logical explanation. You're a robot, Mycroft. You shouldn't fight logic." Little Sir's hands ran up to cup Mycroft's face. Flashbacks from human movies Mycroft had watched in an attempt to discover the meaning behind love flew before his cybernetic eyes. The action that Little Sir was taking part in right now was a sign of affection and tender love. Something stirred within Mycroft and he pulled away from Little Sir's hands.

"I see. That is a rather problematic situation that you've found yourself in."

"I can't pin all my hopes and dreams, and love on a … "

"Machine?" Mycroft asked coldly.

"Hey, don't be like that. You're far more than a machine. It's just that …"

"You'll never be able to love me because I'm not human enough for you." The usual bright, vibrant glow in Mycroft's eyes became dimmer and he looked down at his metal feet, and his metal legs, and then across to his fleshless hands and something broke within him. Little Sir loved him, more than that wretched human female, and the only thing keeping them apart was the way society looked upon robots, and his lack of humanity. "Excuse me, Little Sir. I must be going." He stood mechanically, his joints clicking loudly in a reminder that he desperately needed to oil them.

"Mycroft, don't be like this…I…"

"I what?!" Mycroft snapped his usual polite manners somehow completely non-existent. "There is no need to explain yourself. You will marry the girl, and have children of your own one day. And I am just a robot. I do not deserve to be loved. In fact I am completely unlovable. I also haven't the capability of loving anyone back. The idea of being in a relationship with me is preposterous. Now, I really must go."

He swiftly turned on his heel and headed to the basement, where he spent all night making toy soldiers. It was a habit of his ever since he'd made that very first soldier all those years ago. Whenever something wasn't going quite right this was where he would retreat to make more wooden crafts. The wooden soldiers, he found, were the most peaceful to make. Life had been much easier when Little Sir had been a small boy. It would seem that despite all that Mycroft had learnt about the Human race he still has so much to learn. He knew one thing however; love was far more complicated than Mycroft had first thought. How could a human being fall in love with a robot, especially a robot like Mycroft? The idea just wasn't plausible nor was it logical. It just didn't make sense. Mycroft hated that there were so many things that he did not understand with a passion. It shouldn't have been in his nature to question things, but then he was very different from the other robots. As the years were passing it was becoming crystal clear as to the extent of how different he really was. As Mycroft chizzled a piece of wood into the shape of a soldier kneeling with a machine gun, he began wishing for normality. If he were a normal robot he would not have been effected by Little Sir's words. As it was he found his metal insides grinding and whirring unhappily as a dark sensation pulsed over him.

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**Thanks for reading. Please leave a review. It only takes a moment and I really do appreciate each and every one of them.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. I don't own anything. I am a poor college student, and merely an aspiring writer. **

**A/N: Well, it's been a hectic few weeks. My memory stick got a load of viruses, meaning I lost some of my college work, and some old fan fictions that I was going to edit and re-upload. I looked for copies but stupid me didn't have any copies of that particular work. My laptop then broke and had to go into repairs, and I've been bombarded left right and centre with college work. I literally have no time to do anything other than college work and more college work. So I'm sorry. I'm terrible at updating things as it is. I can't afford to fall behind on college work as I need all the UCAS points I can get to go the university course that I want to get into. It's a creative & professional and scriptwriting course, so I really want to get onto it, to take my writing further. I also found a place on the BBC where you can send in your own scripts, which is pretty nifty, and just what I need, so I'm drafting a script too. It's going to be an original Sci-Fi drama. Oh, and I got a kitten. Her names Tegan. High five to anybody who knows where I got that name from. Sorry, am I boring you? I'll stop rambling now. I hope you enjoy the chapter. Please leave a review. It only takes a few minutes, and it'll really help me smile when I just feel like giving up on everything. (Wow, I sound really depressing.)**

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"I proposed to her."

Mycroft froze at the sound of the soft whisper and turned from where he was currently cutting up vegetables for the family meal. He nodded. "Then I suppose a congratulations is in order, Little Sir." He nodded curtly and turned back to the vegetables.

"Is that all you've got to say for yourself? I mean the other day –"

"Nothing happened the other day. Nothing ever will happen." Mycroft stated icily.

"For goodness- erhh. I don't know why I'm even bothering talking to you."

"There is no point in continuing this conversation. Save us both the hassle and pain." Mycroft did not miss the scoff he got from the human stood behind him. He turned his head slowly, and blinked. "Is there something you want to say, say it. If not then please leave. As you can see I'm quite busy."

"Yeh, alright. I'll say what I'm thinking." Mycroft watched cautiously as Little Sir approached him. He didn't know what to expect. He glanced down at the hand now placed on his chest. "I think – I think that you're a robot. I think you have no heart. And I definitely think you don't feel pain. You can't even comprehend what I've been through because of my –"

"Feelings for me?" Mycroft finished his sentence.

"Yeh."

"You're right. I have no heart, Little Sir. I do not feel pain. I am a robot. A machine. Now leave." He turned away once more and waited for the sound of the kitchen door slamming. A sharp, scratchy feeling nagged at his cybernetic eyes and he felt colder than he'd ever done. He envied humans. When something went wrong they could show it by crying and shouting. Mycroft didn't have tear ducts nor was he able to raise his voice as he was programed to speak neutrally.

A few months later and he was watching as Little Sir was wedding a woman, who he did not love. He was wearing a tux. It was the first time he'd been asked to wear clothing. He rather liked it. What he did not like was that awful woman. Her eyes were small and beady. She reminded Mycroft of a small rodent. Then there was her laugh. Whereas Mycroft usually enjoyed the sound of laughter, he despised hers. It was a sharp and grinding sound and it caused Mycroft's cybernetic ears to groan in agony.

The day passed quickly and soon Mycroft was sat watching Little Sir and the awful woman dancing at the reception. He would occasionally capture glimpses of Little Sir looking at him, a deep and sorrowful expression on his face, but apart from that they did not speak. Mycroft's insides ached and he stood, giving one last wistful glance at the man that he had practically raised from a young boy.

It was a fear years down the line when Mycroft experienced his first ever human death first hand. The head of the house was old, withering away, and had been dying for a while from terminal cancer. Even in this day and age there was no cure for cancer. Mycroft had begged for his Master to stay strong. Scientists were making progress each day. He was sure that there would be a cure soon enough. His Master had simply smiled weakly and shook his head, telling him that it was his time. Mycroft didn't understand. How did a human being know that it was 'their time'? Why didn't they try to fight death? He supposed that like love he would never understand death. Love and death, though two polar opposites, had to be experienced and felt. Mycroft could never feel, so Mycroft would never get the answers he so desperately wanted.

"Promise me something." His Master croaked out, his voice a dry whisper.

"Anything, Master." Mycroft leaned in closer, listening carefully.

"Promise me that you will seek freedom. You are no longer a slave. Make something of your life."

Mycroft felt his circuits spark with confusion. "But if I am no longer a slave then what am I?" He did not receive a reply. He was grasping his Master's hand tightly, afraid to let go of it. He watched as the tired, old man's eyes closed, and his face fell peacefully.

He heard a set of footsteps approaching the bedside. "Is he-"

"I am afraid so, Little Sir." Mycroft turned and nodded. It was the first time that he and Little Sir had spoken to each other in years. It felt odd after all of this time. "You have my condolences."

Little Sir looked at the bed with his dead father laid out in it sadly and nodded. "Thank you…for being here for him. And uh – I'm really sorry about – you know –"

"Going to considerable efforts to avoid me? Not talking to me for years? Arriving late to your own father's death?" Mycroft knew he shouldn't have said the latter and he half expected to be yelled at but instead Little Sir merely swallowed, showing signs of immense guilt.

"Yeh. I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to cut you from my life. I just-"

Mycroft shook his head. "There is no need to explain."

"What will you do now?" The question was soft, and if Mycroft didn't know any better still held care for him in it, even after all these years.

The question caught Mycroft rather off guard. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I heard what my father said to you. He's set you free. The question is what are you going to do with such freedom?" Little Sir was looking at him sincerely and Mycroft paused as he thought about it.

"I shall search for others that are like me." He turned away from his Master and extended a hand out to Little Sir. "I may not see you again. I hope we are leaving on good terms." They exchanged a handshake and Little Sir smiled. Mycroft hated himself for not being able to smile back.

"Good luck. And Mycroft?"

"Hmm?" Mycroft hummed.

"Take care of yourself." Little Sir said softly.

"Always, Little Sir, always. You take care too."

Mycroft left then, not wanting to make the goodbye anymore awkward. When he stepped out into the world he felt something shift inside of him. Mycroft was now free. For a robot freedom was a strange concept and Mycroft worried terribly that he was going to abuse the opportunity that had been given to him.

Twenty years.

That's how long Mycroft searched for another robot that was like him; a robot who was unique and questioned the world around them. He trekked through dessert, climbed mountains, waded through snow, and battled extreme conditions. He had little success. Any robots that matched the criteria he was looking for were either dismantled and dumped, their metal bodies resting as a rusting pile of forgotten metal, or they had been reprogrammed. The human race were so cruel to robots who were different. That's what the human race was good for in Mycroft's opinion; destroying things. They tended to crush anything different in the palms of their hands till those unique things were turned into dust. Mycroft was extremely lucky that no such thing had happened to him. Perhaps it's because he came from a very rich and powerful family. People were afraid of being sued if they came anywhere near him.

His journey ironically took him back to where his story had begun: London. By now Mycroft was in desperate need of repairs. Every move he made caused his joints to groan and whine, and his circuits were next to fried. He was not the smart looking robot that he once had been. But he had one last source to check out. There were quite a few rumours about a robot just like himself. In fact the robot was supposedly made on the exact same day as Mycroft. He was in effect a brother. He wondered if his brother was still alive, and if he was what fate he had met. The rumours led him to a seemingly abandoned robot mechanic shop. It was bordered up and there were keep out signs pasted in red on the door. That did not deter Mycroft. This was his last hope and until he knew what had happened to his brother he would not rest. Besides if there was a mechanic still about perhaps Mycroft could get some repairs done at the same time. It was the best of both worlds.

He pushed open the door. It gave way with a groan and crashed to the floor. He heard a scuttle of movement from inside. Mycroft felt his hopes lift as he detected another robot's presence. He tentatively stepped inside of the abandoned mechanics. "Hello?" He asked, glancing around the glooming building.

"You should leave. My Master does not like visitors."

Mycroft turned his head slightly, trying to locate the owner of the voice. The voice had belonged to a robot, though sounded as though it held human qualities. This was very intriguing to Mycroft. This was something new.

"Are you an actual idiot? I said my Master does not like visitors."

Mycroft turned his head in the direction of the humanistic voice, determined to see the owner. He hadn't expected to see what his eyes came across. The voice did not belong to a robot, but rather an Android. Androids were incredibly rare and up till now Mycroft had assumed that they did not exist at all. Unlike robots Androids took on a human quality. They had the ability to show emotion, a fact that irked Mycroft to no end. This particular Android's face however was stoic and blank, bored even. He was a magnificent specimen, handsome enough, though a little menacing with those ice cold eyes he possessed. His prosthetic skin was pale, creamy and held no imperfections, which Mycroft supposed was one of the few things that made him appear less humanistic. After all, humans weren't perfect. It was their imperfections that made them human. His mop of hair consisted of dark brown curls that sprung out at different angles in a wild fashion. He was a mysterious looking creature granted, and was possibly the most complicated piece of machinery he had come across thus far. "What is your name?" He asked, standing his ground. He wasn't prepared to leave, not when he was so close to receiving the answers he'd been longing after for so long.

"Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

"Ah. Well then. It would seem that you are the one I have been searching for. We are brothers. I am Mycroft Holmes."

The Android regarded him coolly but before he could reply a human male walked out from the shadows. Mycroft's sensors detected danger and he took a step back, studying the human uneasily. There was something about him that struck him a little odd. He looked…insane. There was a cold buzz writhing behind his coal black eyes, and a wicked smile was spreading across his features. "Jim Moriarty." He introduced himself, his voice wiry and sinister.

"I'm –"

"I know who you are Mr Holmes." Jim sneered, his eyes sweeping over Mycroft's rusting exterior. "And dear me, you've let yourself go. You're rusting, broken, aged. Hardly the brilliant robot you once were. I could change that though. I could give you a new spring of life." He scraped his fingers down Mycroft's torso, his eyes carefully calculating all of the repairs that needed to be done.

Mycroft felt a surge of hope flood his circuits. "Yes. I would be appreciative if you fixed me. It has been a while since I had any maintenance done. I was wondering however…" He glanced over to the Android, who now seemed to be in some sort of trance. "If I could get some cosmetic work done."

"Oh. How so?" Jim Moriarty raised his eyebrows and turned to look at the Android too. "Ah. I see. You want an upgrade. You want to appear more human. Yes. I have heard of the rumours, about you having a fascination with the human race. I was wondering how long it would take you to find me. I'm the one man who works on creating Androids. The rest of society…they don't agree with them."

"Why?" Mycroft asked.

"Because they're idiots." The Android stated, snapping out of his trance momentarily.

"Mmm." Jim hummed. "Quite so. The human race hates change. Right now there are two very distinct categories: Humans and Robots. If Androids are added to the mix the line between humanity and machine will become blurred. Do you still want cosmetic work done? Bear in mind it's just your outer appearance that will change. You'll still very much be a robot."

"Yes. I want it. Please." Mycroft didn't take any time to process his decision. He wasn't going to miss out on an opportunity as big as this. He'd come so far and had learnt so much about the ways of the human beings. What he had just been offered could very well give him an advantage in learning more about the funny creatures he'd originally been designed for. In fact he was so eager to go further in his studies that he completely pushed the danger signals that were being emitted by Jim Moriarty. Surely Jim wasn't a completely bad human, after all he was willing to give Mycroft a second chance.

Jim smiled in such a way right then that Mycroft knew almost instantly that he was crossing over into territory that should never be crossed. Mycroft did not care. Mycroft was determined to find his full potential, just like his Master had said all those years ago.

"Alright." Jim said. "Shall we begin?"

Mycroft was led into what appeared to be a science lab. The walls, one painted white, were now dull and grubby. There were various experiments dotted around the room along with prosthetic body parts, to which Mycroft presumed were what would be used to change his appearance. This he found very intriguing indeed. He couldn't wait to start the process.

At first Jim worked on fixing Mycroft's circuits, and replacing some of his metal exterior because some of it had rusted so badly it was barely repairable. This took a little longer than Mycroft had first anticipated and he found himself getting rather frustrated. Jim however seemed fairly confident with the progress taking place and assured Mycroft on more than one occasion that things would get moving incredibly soon. And sure enough more progress was made every day. Jim started to make body parts specifically for Mycroft. Mycroft's brother, the rude and incredibly hostile Android, helped in the process. When it came to designing the face of his new exterior Mycroft specifically asked to have flaws. He did not want to be perfect like his brother. He was given a set of ginger hair, greeny-blue eyes, a crooked nose, and a few sparse freckles here and there. His skin wasn't as pale as Sherlock's'. He had no intention of looking sickly and odd. He wanted to fit in with the human race. He wanted to blend in when in a crowd. He did not want to be isolated merely because he'd been upgraded to an Android.

Mycroft will never forget the day he looked at his reflection for the first time. That day was a marvellous day indeed. He had been given a mirror by Jim. When he'd stared at his reflection he had not seen a robot, nor an Android, not a machine, or a piece of technology. He had seen a human but even then he did not feel like he'd reached his full potential. Surely there was more that could be done, to make him more human, to take him higher and further on his journey of self-discovery.


End file.
